To Feel One Shot
by whocares10315
Summary: Craig is captured, and has an interesting conversation with his captor...


[fanfic] To Feel

Title: To Feel

Author: whocares10315

Pairing: Damien/Craig

Chapter: One Shot

**Rating: MA for strong sexual content, offensive language and disturbing themes**

Disclaimer: I do not own Matt and Trey's precious babies.

Author's Notes: Dedicated to_ kyuubikun _for the request.

Summary: Craig is captured, and has an interesting conversation with his captor…

* * *

**To Feel**

Craig woke to the strange absence of sound. The silence was oppressive as he groggily lifted his heavy head, looking around with bleary eyes. He saw darkness. Craig absently wondered if his eyes were even open. He could feel himself blink, disconcerted by the lack of variation in his sight. It was then he realized he was hung by his wrists, waist, and ankles on a wall. He jerked at his restraints to find that they were metal. He took a breath, panic tightening his throat but not showing any visible fear.

He was trapped. In a dark room. With no memory of how he got there. He struggled to remember. But before he could do so, a bright light appeared above him, creating a small spotlight under him. Craig cringed, narrowing his eyes in adjustment to the light that didn't seem to have any origin. Once he got accustomed to the light, he blinked and saw that he was not even a foot off the ground. If he was released, he could simply step down. That was when a shadow disturbed the perfection of the circular light on the ground. It was followed with, of course, a foot. Craig looked up to see who the foot belonged to.

"Damien," he said, almost sounding surprised. But exhaustion made his throat dry and coarse.

"Craig," Damien greeted back, hands clasped behind his back as he smiled in a cold manner up at the mortal. "I'm flattered. You recognize me."

"I don't forget a face," Craig replied flatly after clearing his cigarette-abused throat. "Tell me what's going on."

Craig's eyebrows dropped down slightly when Damien laughed in response to Craig's demand.

"Not one for rising action, are you, Craig?" Damien chuckled faintly, raising his chin to meet Craig's eyes, his own flickering a crimson red in the light.

"Tell me what's going on, _please_?" Craig offered, able to avoid adding a tinge of sarcasm in his flat tone as he glared down at the other.

"I'm afraid manners aren't getting you anywhere here," Damien said in a reassuring way, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Limbo is pretty apathetic and flat. Just like how you seem to want to act."

"What're you talking about, Damien?" Craig asked, eyes a much harsher blue, jaw clenching slightly but not enough to be visibly noticeable.

"You," Damien answered easily, tilting his head. "Trying so hard to be nonchalant. To be unfeeling. To be strong." Damien emphasized strong with a mocking coo, face splitting in a cruel smirk at how Craig's eyes remained dead straight and his expression deadpan.

"I don't know what you mean," Craig replied coolly. "I just want you to tell me what's going on, what you want, and to go home."

"It's not that simple," Damien promised, shaking his head. "As much as you'd like to believe it was."

"I haven't done anything to you," Craig claimed, fingers clenching and unclenching in slight frustration. His eyebrows met in a frown as he stared at Damien for a moment. "Limbo--does that mean I'm dead?"

"In a manner of speaking," Damien conceded, blinking. "This is where we decide where to put you."

"How'd I die?" Craig asked curiously, starting to feel uncomfortable with the metal restraint digging into his rib cage, pinning him to the wall like a collector's insect. Gravity was pulling him down and his ribs weren't getting any smaller.

"ODed on your mother's sleeping pills," Damien replied easily. "With your father's whiskey as a chaser. It was a good time. Don't you remember?"

Craig visibly winced at the mention of his parents. The memory filling his mind like a badly-filmed movie wasn't even the most disturbing part. He felt sick to his stomach at the mention of his family. Life. What kind of life had that been?

"Oh, I'm sorry, did that make you uncomfortable?" Damien mused, in response to Craig's discomfort. "Upset?"

"If I'm dead and you're here, doesn't that mean I'm going to hell?" Craig asked, regaining his composure as he stared down at the other.

"Well, if we're going into technicalities, then yes, you're going to the seventh layer of hell," Damien answered, tiling his dark head with a smile. "Don't worry, I'll be there to keep you company."

"Fuck you," Craig scoffed faintly, with no passion behind it. "What do you want? Nobody just traps a person like this for no reason; not even a sick fuck like you."

Damien raised his eyebrows and started laughing, as if Craig had truly just insulted someone in a clever way.

"Very nice," he chuckled, still trying to control his laugh as he took a step toward Craig, looking at him like he was a painting. "I could almost feel your frustration that time. What else you got?"

"Is that what this is about? Making me express my emotions or some bullshit like that?" Craig asked, blinking slowly, looking almost bored. "What are you, a shrink?"

"This is all very good," Damien continued to laugh to himself, crossing his arms and placing a hand over his grin. "So entertaining. You really think that you have the upper hand because you, 'can't feel.'"

"How do you know how I feel or what I think?" Craig snapped coldly back.

"Because I've been around plenty of your kind," Damien rolled his eyes, still smirking all the same as he took another step. "Trying to act tough in the face of evil by removing emotion. You just wanted everyone to think you had no heart or soul, right? That you were just coasting through life without a care in the world."

Craig didn't answer and Damien grinned, tilting his head up at the other brunette.

"But you do care," he whispered, getting closer to Craig- close enough to make him more uncomfortable in his already compromising position. "You care about how mommy and daddy see you, isn't that right?"

"You shut the fuck up about my parents," Craig growled, eyes flashing with anger briefly before his lips became a thin line of tense control.

"Then don't pretend like you don't feel anything," Damien snarled maliciously. "You have no idea what it's like to _really_ lack feeling. What you've done to yourself is conditioned yourself to live in a certain way to reaffirm your emotionless personality. You convinced yourself that you did not need to feel to live among people and that it's just how you are, despite how unhealthy it is. You don't need anyone, right? If your parents don't need you, you don't need them. If your parents don't need you, nobody will need you. You just need yourself, right? Isn't that right, Craig?"

As Damien hissed in Craig's face, the apathetic boy's expression continued to slip, slowly, lips twitching and eyes glistening, avoiding the demon's eyes.

"Is this getting to you?" he whispered, almost coyly in the other's ear. "I'm right, aren't I? Why else would you end yourself? You knew that your life was a lie. And it's all your own fault. Nobody else to blame when you have no heart."

Damien licked the length of the side of Craig's neck, making him tense and turn his head completely away, as far as he could.

"If you want to know true lack of emotion and absence of heart, all you had to do was ask," Damien murmured against Craig's neck, nipping it gently and nuzzling it like a serpent passing through. "I'm right here."

"Stop it," Craig whispered, his voice admittedly growing shallow with emotion. "Stop."

"Why? Don't you want to feel?" Damien asked, biting and sucking at Craig's earlobe slightly, his hand slipping under Craig's shirt and making him shiver with revulsion. "You know, to be happy you have to accept how miserable your parents make you feel."

"I said, 'stop it,'" Craig panted, clenching his hands as if to punch the other. But he could not move, even as Damien's hand trailed over his body.

"Why are you trying to control yourself around me?" Damien snickered faintly, brushing his fingertips along Craig's nipple and pressing the bridge of his nose under Craig's firm jawline. "Limbo's like Vegas. Besides, where you're going, nobody gives a flying fuck what you do or say."

"Get the fuck off of me, fudgepacker," Craig hissed, passionate enough to look back at Damien with hatred flashing in his indigo eyes. "Stop thinking you know shit about me."

"Oh, now that's not nice," Damien tsked quietly, removing his hand from under Craig's shirt to press his fingertips to the other's lips to hush him. "Especially when you've imagined yourself with so many of your friends, you dirty thing."

Damien resisted a laugh but couldn't help but sneer at the red filling Craig's cheeks as the human glared off and swallowed tightly at how much Damien knew about him.

"Look," Damien said, sighing with a slight roll of his eyes, moving away from the other to cross his arms. "I get your deal. You're dead, so you might as well fess up as like- a strange repentance before your entrance into hell."

Damien released a chuckle at the irony of his own statement before continuing, seeing that Craig's eyes had returned to look at the demon spawn.

"What do you have to lose, your pride? Like you'll need that," Damien scoffed slightly, starting to walk back and forth in a slow pace in front of Craig. "Confess that you have feeling."

"I'm not gonna do anything _you_ want me to do, freak," Craig scoffed, glaring down at the other. "No matter what you say."

Craig's eyebrows furrowed as Damien sighed tiredly, shaking his head before flashing his crimson eyes up at the boy, looking almost regrettable for Craig for his foolish decision.

"Then, I'm just going to make you confess," Damien concluded, expression stoic and serious before a hint of a smirk danced on his lips. "Because torturing you is the whole point, Craig. Admit it. Actually telling yourself that you feel something actually hurts you now. And you call yourself human?"

Craig swallowed back a lump in his throat that could have been fear at the other's words. Damien was taking him to hell, but not before he played some of his own games. And Damien was right- Craig had built himself, perfectly, to coast through life the way he had. And Damien was coming for him with every desire and means to destroying him.

"Blow me," Craig found himself able to muster up, with his nose wrinkling in antipathy for the other.

"Happily," Damien replied without a hint of sexuality in his response, clasping his hands behind himself as if he had just agreed to do Craig a favor. "And who do you want, Craig?"

Damien tilted his head with a knowing look as Craig stared back in confusion.

"Any requests as I slip into something more comfortable?" Damien reiterated, taking a step closer toward Craig. With a blink, he was gone.

"Hey, s'going on, Tucker?" Clyde winked up at the shocked Craig. "Want me to do this or what?"

Craig's face was still in frozen astonishment before he paused, seeing Clyde's eyes flicker red and his lips twist in a cruel smirk versus a playful one.

"Damien," Craig grunted through his clenched teeth, eyes narrowing. This was too much; he was crossing the line.

"What's the matter, Craig?" "Clyde" asked, tilting his head in that sweet puppy-pathetic way, running his hands up to push Craig's shirt to his chin. "Don't you want me? I could blow your mind."

Craig couldn't avoid the other's gentle eyes as he leaned in close, tousled brown hair kissing his bare skin. Craig's throat dipped unmistakably and he felt himself swell with guilty desire. Clyde had always been sexually attractive to him. The fact Damien knew and was using it against him wasn't fair.

"Don't," Craig growled, squirming against the restraints with a wince.

"But Craig," Clyde whined, face flushing as he pressed his lips against the other's toned flesh, lapping at it hungrily. "I _wan_t to."

"Stop, this isn't right," Craig said flatly with an uncharacteristic waver in his voice, staring down at the other, legs shifting against their confinements.

"So?" Clyde whimpered, lowering himself to lick along his lower abdomen and tug at the waistband. "Nobody has to know about it," he panted against the front of Craig's jeans, unbuttoning them and mouthing along his length.

"No, Clyde," Craig said tensely, more to himself than to Damien, clenching his eyes shut, hating himself as his arousal grew more apparent around Clyde's lips. "Damien, stop it. S-stop."

"No?" Clyde asked, looking up but with Damien's unkind smirk. "Well, how 'bout this one?"

"No," Craig almost gasped, looking away. But he found his eyes dragging back at the sound of a different, familiar voice.

"Craig, look at me, dude."

Stan smiled in that good-natured manner, almost looking sheepish as he moved to run his fingers through the other's dark hair in an affectionate and boyish way.

"Fuck," Craig said, paling as he admittedly relished the feel of the other boy's touch, having imagined it so many times. Stan had been that image of perfection. Even his juvenile flaws made Craig strive to be at the same level with him. To compete with him. Stan had been his first love.

"Craig," Stan said, blinking and looking so laid-back and in control as he cupped Craig's chin. "It's me."

"You're not Stan," Craig said out loud, more for his own benefit than to really say it. He felt his chin quiver in the slightest as San leaned in to kiss him fervently, which Craig shamefully but passionately returned. When he started to feel Stan pull away, he released a sigh before gasping for air as if suddenly out of breath.

"C-craig," the other stammered. "I—nnh!—I thought you w-wanted _me_."

Craig's eyes snapped open and he looked to see Stan had become Tweek. The dark-haired boy's heart dropped, before catapulting back up to his throat, suffocating him.

"No, Damien," he gasped, a look of distress actually crossing Craig's face as he shook his head. "You can't. Not Tweek."

"Craig, please," Tweek moaned faintly, body shaking with anxiety and tension as he clenched the front of Craig's shirt and blushed furiously. "I've w-wanted to for so long."

"Tweek, don't," Craig shook his head, wanting to make Tweek get up as he slowly started to bend over, picking up where Clyde had left off. "Not Tweek."

But "Tweek" took ahold of Craig's hips and lipped his arousal with commitment, looking up every now and again with flushed cheeks, searching for approval. Craig found himself releasing small bouts of pleasing sounds, despite the situation and how he felt about it. How he felt about Tweek.

"Tweek," Craig drew out in an agonizing mix of disapproval and need. "This isn't real."

But Tweek tugged Craig's underwear waistband to remove his length. He flicked his tongue along the slit, as if for a taste.

"You taste good, Craig," Tweek whispered shyly, moving his hand to stroke the other as he stared up at Craig. Before Craig could answer, Tweek began sucking on the head, looking wholly invested in the action.

"_Nnh_," Craig tensed, knocking his head back against the wall roughly, as if to wake himself up, eyes clenched shut in relation to the firmness of his member. He could not deny the hot, melting feeling in the pit of his stomach as Tweek moved his thin, small, slick lips and tongue along him. He felt his face grow warm as Tweek bobbed his head, holding the base, the friction becoming unbearable as a few moments crawl past like hours.

Right as Craig felt that he would finish, the pressure and pleasure was gone from around his length. Craig opened his eyes to see what presented the delay, before freezing and finding all signs of arousal gone.

"If you tell som' body, I'll fuckin' kill ya sorry ass, got it, boy?" the dark figure slurred under him.

"Oh, my God," Craig sobbed, knocking his head back a few more times roughly against the wall, shaking his head vigorously. "Not this, Damien. Fuck, not this."

"'Ey! Answer me, boy!"

Mr. Tucker grabbed Craig by the jaw, his drunken strength and rancid scent of alcohol enough to sting tears in the dark-haired boy's eyes.

"Do ya need another lesson?" Mr. Tucker asked huskily, face hovering over Craig's turned and clenched one.

"N-no," Craig shook, tears trickling down his face and tightening his throat with sobs. "No, sir."

"Look a' meh in da eye, and say it," Mr. Tucker jeered in the other's ear with forced intimacy. "Be a good boy."

"No, sir, I don't need another lesson," Craig said without a stammer, voice cracking despite the control he had developed after so many years. As soon as the statement was out, Craig found his head fall forward, feeling his breathing become impossible from his sobs.

"Are ya cryin', boy? Y'know what criers are? Faggots," Mr. Tucker continued, his voice a constant heat on Craig's throat and a perpetual, haunting echo in Craig's mind. "You a faggot now?"

"Please," Craig begged in a choke, shaking his head weakly, slumped over against his restraints, looking almost biblical. "Please."

"Are you ready to admit it now, Craig?" Damien asked, pulling away to look up at the crying boy, face surprisingly gentle as he smiled in an indiscernible way. "Yes, Craig. Cry. Give in."

Craig obliged, unable to create coherent words through his tears. He felt Damien wiping them away but he did nothing to stop him or question him. He felt his heart beating wildly in his chest as he cried, in hysterics, as all emotion he had ever suppressed suddenly proliferated into an explosion inside him that he could not handle.

He could feel his entire body hurt. Most importantly, feel.

Damien moved the dark hair out of Craig's face, cupping his chin with both hands, smiling in an almost approving way as he felt all the pain in Craig's memories in his fingertips.

"To feel all this," Damien whispered, smiling in a docile way as he kissed the crying human. "Is to be human, Craig."

Suddenly, Damien stumbled back, clutching his head with a look of confusion. He met Craig's eyes before in a flash, he was gone.

Darkness consumed Craig's conscience.

* * *

"Get up, asshole. I don't feel like carrying your ass home."

The voice pierced through his brain like a knife and made Craig double up and moan. Slowly, he began to realize he was on the ground, on his side, free. He slowly opened his eyes to South Park at nightfall. The young man the voice belonged to looked bored as he adjusted his orange hood.

"Kenny?"

The boy answered with a mischievous grin, and an offer for some help to get up.

"I know," he nodded, tugging the other boy up to his feet. "I rule."

Craig paused to think about what had just happened. He had gone to limbo, there was no doubting any of the previous events as nightmares, despite how much he would like to believe it. Craig stared at Kenny, silently asking him to answer his questions.

"Don't worry about Damien," Kenny reassured with a wide grin, sloppy blonde hair falling into his eyes slightly. "Just go home, dude."

Craig opened his mouth to ask more questions, but found it impossible. He simply stared at Kenny, who stared casually back with a relaxed expression. Craig still felt the promise of tears waiting in the back of his eyes at his revelations. His life. His death. His emotions. The power of them all was crippling.

After a long moment, Craig looked down, regaining some composure as he turned his back on the blonde to walk home.

"Thanks," he found himself saying with the same flat easiness, slipping easily back into his routine.

"Any time," Kenny called after him, watching the other lope away.

"I could have gotten farther with him," Damien murmured, walking up behind Kenny, staring after the dark-haired boy. "_Really_ made him feel."

"I think you went far enough," Kenny replied, almost conversationally as neither of them looked away from the retreating figure.

"I want him, Kennedy," Damien sighed, licking his lips in thought.

"I know," Kenny smirked, flashing his electric blue eyes at the other. "But he's only human, Damien."

* * *

~*Love? Hate? Undecided? Let me know. Thanks for reading!*~


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